


Torchlight on Red Faces

by carolinecrane



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-04 23:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is his first experience with stalking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torchlight on Red Faces

This is his first experience with stalking. He's not even sure it counts as stalking exactly, because he's only been following Nick for around twenty minutes. Still, he's hanging back, blending as best he can with the crowd – and it isn't that hard in a casino on a Friday night – when he could just walk up to Nick and say hello. 

At first he wasn't even sure it _was_ Nick, so he kept his distance and watched for a few moments, catching glimpses of dark hair and darker eyes until finally, _finally_ that familiar smile and strong profile swept into focus. He could have walked up to Nick then, threaded his way through the crowd to say a casual hello, maybe ask what brought a guy like Nick to the Paris on a Friday night. He's never really thought of Nick as the nightlife type; sure, he was a frat boy and Greg's heard all the rumors of his prowess with the ladies, but he only half believes most of those stories. 

The truth is that he's always pictured Nick as kind of a homebody, the type to hang out and watch the game in the comfort of his own living room. He kind of likes to picture Nick stretched out on his couch, beer in one hand and a remote in the other while he bitches at the quarterback for Texas A&M. He's not sure if that qualifies as a fantasy about his coworker, exactly, but it's what he thinks about whenever he wonders what Nick does with his days off.

So maybe his stalking career has been a long time coming after all.

In his defense, he didn't start out the night planning to follow Nick around. Once he established that it was, in fact, Nick Stokes standing near the slot machines a few rows down from him Greg started to go say hello, but before he took more than a few steps Nick turned away from him and leaned in to say something to someone Greg couldn't see. And of course Nick wouldn't be here alone, but it was still jarring enough to make Greg stop and move as far out of view as he could while he waited for Nick's date to come into focus. 

When he finally saw her his heart sank into the pit of his stomach; brunette, almost as tall as Nick, with a smile that made Nick's whole face light up. She reminded him of that hooker Nick slept with once, the one that got him in so much trouble when she ended up dead. Greg didn't like thinking about her, though, mostly because ever since she came into Nick's life he'd had to admit to himself that Nick probably really was as straight as everyone assumed he was. For two years now he'd been working hard to talk himself out of the idea that Nick might swing both ways, that there was still a chance that the flirting and the long looks when they were alone in the lab weren't just a figment of his imagination.

He knew better. He'd known for a long time that Nick was never going to want him, but even though he knew it was hopeless Greg couldn't seem to turn away from the sight of Nick flirting with the girl on his arm. He never made a conscious decision to follow them, but twenty minutes later he's still hanging back in the crowd, keeping one eye on Nick and the other on his mystery girl. And the thing is that they look really good together; even Greg has to admit that, and the sinking feeling in his stomach comes back with a vengeance when he pictures the hooker and how good she and Nick must have looked together. Naked together. And he's ashamed of how many times he's pictured that, because not only is she dead, but he's pretty sure Nick wouldn't find his imagination amusing.

Even he knows how twisted it is, but there are times when he can't stop himself from picturing things he knows are only going to get him into trouble. He pictures Nick alone sometimes, and then there are the times – far more frequent and almost as disturbing in their clarity – that he can picture Nick with him, stretched out on his bed and moving against him, mouth against Greg's and hands mapping his skin with a possessiveness that Greg wants more than he'll ever admit. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine what Nick's mouth would feel like on his lips, on his skin…on his cock. 

And now he's _hard_ and stalking his coworker.

Half an hour into this latest turn in his obsession and he still hasn't seen Nick kiss his mystery girl, but Greg doesn't get his hopes up. He's always pictured Nick as the private type anyway, so public displays probably aren't really his thing. Besides, she's had her arm through his since Greg first caught sight of them, so obviously they're close enough. Close enough to tell Greg he should turn around and go home, forget the fact that he was supposed to meet some friends on the other side of the hotel fifteen minutes ago. 

He shakes his head and looks around, realizing with a start that he's followed Nick and his date all the way across the casino, to the soothing, torch lit darkness near the restaurant painted to look like a Paris café. He watches as she finally lets go of Nick and heads for the ladies' room, leaving him alone at the edge of the casino. Greg could walk up to him now, pretend he's just seeing Nick this moment and ask him a few carefully casual questions about what he's doing in the Paris on his night off. It would be easy; they know each other pretty well, after all, and even if they're not as close as he'd like they're at least friendly.

Only he's still hard and even if Nick doesn't notice, Greg doesn't think he can fake his way through a casual conversation with the object of his obsession right now. He has to fake it way too much at work as it is, and sometimes it exhausts him so much to pretend he doesn't care that he knows if he tries tonight he'll blow it. And that's the last thing he wants, because if things are awkward between him and Nick he can kiss any chance of CSI training goodbye. He might even have to leave the crime lab altogether, because he's not naïve enough to think anybody would take his side if Nick decides he doesn't want Greg around anymore.

By the time he's done rationalizing Nick's gone, and Greg panics for a second when he realizes he didn't see Nick walk away. A quick glance around tells him that Nick's not in his line of sight at all anymore, so he lets out a sigh that sounds just a little disappointed and turns to his left, past the restaurant and more rows of slot machines to the door that leads into the hotel itself. He doesn't let himself look around for one last glimpse of Nick; he's feeling rattled and maybe a little pathetic about the past half hour, and he knows the best thing he can do is forget it, find his friends and pretend he never even saw Nick tonight. Eventually he might even convince himself.

The contrast between hotel and casino is stark; he steps into the hallway that leads to the lobby and blinks against the sudden brightness meant to cast expensive shops in the most attractive light, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust before he heads past Prada and Dolce Gabbana. When he rounds the corner he leaves the casino behind him completely, and he can almost imagine that he's breathing a little easier as he shoulders his way past a group of rich tourists ogling the jewelry in a window display. 

A few seconds later he's almost reached the lobby, and he's so wrapped up in wondering if his friends have left already that he doesn't notice a quick movement to his right until he finds himself suddenly immersed in darkness again, his back flat against a wall and the sounds of the Paris muffled by the walls of the small alcove that houses some kind of service door. He barely notices the sudden change in light, though, because Nick's face is clear even in the darkness, bathed in red from the emergency exit sign shining over their heads.

Nick's grinning, and the arousal that had begun to subside returns almost instantly. "Wanna tell me why you were following me?"

No hello, no 'fancy meeting you here', just straight to the point. But Nick doesn't look pissed – he doesn’t even really look all that disturbed by the fact that Greg's turned into a stalker. Alarms are going off in his head but he can't focus on them, can't focus on much of anything other than Nick's body heat and the hand still firmly wrapped around his forearm. 

"I wasn't," he answers, but his face burns with the lie and he knows not even the red glow from the exit sign is going to hide the evidence of his humiliation. "I'm meeting some friends. In the lobby. I saw you and I was going to say hi, but then I saw your date and I didn't want to cramp your style. It's not my fault you were going the same direction as me."

It's clear that Nick doesn't believe him, and Greg can't blame him. He's not much of a liar under pressure. He's proved that time and again at work; for all his enthusiasm and intelligence, he has a hard time looking anyone in the eye and lying. He can tease and he can flirt and he can embellish to get his point across, but even when he went undercover that one time to help Grissom with the coin collector case he was almost sure he was going to blow it before they got the evidence they needed. He managed to keep his cool, but only because he knows about coins and the dealer was probably desperate enough to unload hot merchandise that he was willing to overlook a few jitters. 

"Nice try, Greggo, but I don't think we were headed in the same direction for half an hour."

So he'd make a terrible stalker; that much is obvious, especially if Nick's been on to him from pretty much the moment Greg spotted him. He lets out a heavy sigh and slumps against the wall, trying to put as much distance between himself and Nick's body heat as possible. The results don't do much to quell his arousal, and he knows any second Nick's going to notice and this little game will probably take an ugly turn. Or worse, Nick will be apologetic and Greg really will have to transfer back to California, because the one thing he couldn't take from Nick Stokes is pity. Open hostility would be better than that.

"I don't know what I was doing," he says, and that's as close to the truth as he's getting, so he hopes it's good enough. "I never really figured you for the casino type, it got me curious. Then I saw your date and…I don't know. You two look really good together. She's hot."

"She's my sister."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to move in on your territory. I mean it's not like I'd stand a chance against…wait. What?" It's always taken him a little while to let his brain catch up with his mouth when he's nervous, and he knows that's the reason everybody at work thinks of him as a spaz. He doesn't usually let it bother him, but right now he can feel his cheeks burning even hotter and he's sure he's going to spontaneously combust right here in the service entrance of the hotel. 

"I said she's my sister. She flew up from Texas for a weekend away from the kids," Nick answers, and his grin turns up a notch or two as he moves closer to Greg in the already cramped alcove. "So the question is, were you following us because you think my sister's hot? Because the only one in my family who's still single is me. People say we look alike, though, so…"

It makes sense now; the matching smiles and the way they both hold their heads when they laugh. Greg only watched them for half an hour, but even he can see all the similarities that mark them as brother and sister. It makes sense that Nick's siblings would be just as attractive as he is; Greg meant it when he said she was hot, but as far as he's concerned Nick's definitely the best-looking member of the Stokes family. 

He has no idea how to answer Nick's question – he's not even sure if it was a question – because Nick's leaning against him now and Greg's pulse is throbbing in his cock and he just knows Nick can feel it. There's no way he could miss it, and when he shifts just a little and slides his thigh between Greg's legs he knows there's no way he's getting out of this with a simple lie. Only he doesn't really want out, and if Nick's just messing with him he's going to take what he can before the joke's over. 

His hands close around the front of Nick's shirt and he tugs hard, pulling a willing Nick forward to press their lips together. And even though he kissed Nick first he doesn't even think about holding onto control of the situation, because Nick's mouth is hungry and demanding against his and Nick's got him pinned to the wall with his entire body and all Greg can do is hold on. 

Endless moments later they part, both of them panting and Greg's fingers still locked in a death grip on the front of Nick's shirt. And he knows he's left a mess of uncharacteristic wrinkles on Nick's pristine black button-down, but he kind of likes the idea of marking Nick, even in such a transient way. He has to look down at his hands and concentrate before he manages to let go, his fingers aching a little with the effort. 

"I have to get back to my sister," Nick says, his breath warming Greg's too-hot skin and making it hard for him to focus on the words. When they do finally sink in his stomach drops, and he knows it shows on his face when Nick reaches up to trace his mouth with a fingertip. "She's in town until Sunday and if I ditch her I'll never hear the end of it. But maybe we can pick this back up again when she's gone?"

Greg's nodding before he even hears the question; right now he'll agree to just about anything, especially if it means he gets more of this – of Nick – in just a couple days. He already knows they'll be the longest days of his life, worrying the entire time that Nick will change his mind and decide that getting involved with a coworker is a bad idea, but he has that kiss to hold onto and that's more than he ever expected to get. 

"Yeah, sure," he hears himself answer. "I'm off Sunday, if you want to come by my place after you drop her at the airport." And he's sure he sounds desperate, but Nick's still pressed against him so he doesn't really care.

Nick grins and backs off a little, and Greg swallows a disappointed moan at the loss of full body contact. "I can be there around 3:00."

Greg bites back the urge to say 'perfect', swallows 'any time' and 'just hurry' too, and finally settles on something as neutral as possible. "Sounds good."

That earns him another little smile and a quick brush of warm lips against his, then Nick's gone and he leans even harder against the wall to keep himself from sliding to the floor. He knows it's probably going to take him the rest of the weekend to process what just happened, and maybe by the time Sunday rolls around it'll all feel like a vivid dream. But for now he can still feel Nick's mouth against his, the sting of slightly bruised lips and the taste of Nick on his tongue. He finally musters the strength to push himself off the wall, forgetting all about his friends as he wanders back toward the casino for one last glimpse of Nick before heading home.


End file.
